Edgar Allan Poe

Today marks the 200th birthday of an American literary beacon, Edgar Allan Poe. I don't recall when Poe's work first entered my life, but I was reading him before high school. He's been a source of great enjoyment to my family. Poe was buried in Baltimore in 1849, a fact that made him even more popular with my English teachers in Maryland. My thanks to all of them.

Poe and I do share a bit of history. He was stationed at Fort Moultrie on Sullivan's Island, South Carolina for about a year beginning in 1827. The fort and island are the setting for his short story, The Gold Bug. During my career, I spent a total of several weeks walking the damp tunnels, the grassy terreplein, and studying the character of this historic fort and those who garrisoned it. I watched the sun rise and set over the fort, and stood at the gun emplacements at midnight listening to the invisible surf breaking on the beach or watching ship traffic moving in and out of Charleston harbor. For all I know, Poe's shadow may have watched my every move.

There is magic about deep historic places, and it is magnified by darkness, fog, or a rich drizzle. Judging by the vast body of his work, I'd say Poe enjoyed his duty station at Fort Moultrie. His biographers would tell us otherwise. Unrest, tension and unhappiness seemed to follow him everywhere. Out of his personal darkness came a magic that blossomed into timeless contributions to Western literature. Bring on the cognac and roses.